These Tears He Cried
by Tarafina
Summary: She's not sure what to do. :Chloe/Dean:


**Title**: These Tears He Cried  
**Category**: Smallville/Supernatural  
**Rating**: T**  
Genre**: Angst/Romance  
**Pairing**: Chloe/Dean  
**Prompt**: #02 - Cry  
**Word Count**: 902  
**Summary**: She's not sure what to do.

**_These Tears He Cried_**  
1/1

In their entire relationship, going on nine years now, she's seen him cry all of three times. She's heard him cry only twice, away from her, hidden in the confines of the bathroom. It's never wracking sobs or broken whimpering. She can only really tell by the tears that dampen her shirt and the odd sniffle here or there. When he finally breaks down, he talks to her. Always honest and sad and so unbelievably broken that she wants to take it all away from him, erase those memories that haunt him, shadowing his every step.

It never lasts long. The tears are gone so quickly, she sometimes wonders if her mind made it up. But she can still see the red ring around his eyes and his smile isn't nearly as sarcastic as usual. His shoulders are still slumped and his face haunted, but he tries so hard to be back to regular form that she can't help but go along. "I heard there's some good pie at the diner down the street," she'd say and he'd half-grin at her, nod and then book it for the car, calling out, "Last one to the Impala buys!" And she'd laugh, chase after him, and put the misery behind them.

Dean's never cried over anything less than agony. Loss built up over months and months of denial. All the things gone unsaid that finally hit their boiling point and he just has to let it out. And when those moments happen, she's happy and sad, because he's finally expressing it, but all the same, he's like a little boy, alone and lost and in need of somebody to say, "Hey! I got you!" And she says it, over and over, without words and just arms that hold him close and run through his hair. Because he doesn't really want the verbal declaration, that's too close to a chick-flick moment for him to handle. But having her hug him is enough, just staying there and being there and never walking away from it.

So this moment, when the tears are nowhere near sadness. So far from it, in fact, that she's confused to see them. She's not sure what to do. Because she's lying in a hospital bed, so close to exhaustion that she can barely keep her eyes open and he's sitting in the chair next to her, his hands over his face. She can hear that sniffle, the one that's as close to a sob as he'll ever get, and her brow furrows as she looks over at him. She reaches out, runs that back of her fingers over his head, the soft texture of his hair brushing against her skin.

He clears his throat, sits back and licks his lips as he looks at her. "'m fine," he says, nodding with a half-smile. "I'm great."

She's not sure, because he sounds honest, but the tears never lie.

"Lemme see our little girl," he says then and she realizes that for the first time in their relationship, those tears are pride and happiness and unimaginable excitement. He stands up from his chair, moves closer and bends so he can take a peek at the small, squirming bundle in the pink blanket. "Bet she's gonna be a looker."

She laughed lightly, smiling softly at their little girl. Madeline Ann Winchester.

"Hey Maddy," he says, in a deep growl that still holds that edge he gets when he's been crying. "Any guy gets near you, I'm gonna replace the rock salt with buck shot."

Chloe's head falls back and she stares up at him as he continues to gaze at their sweet little baby. Reaching out, he hesitantly runs the tip of his finger down her face. When she doesn't immediately pull away or start crying, he becomes more of himself and traces her small nose, the faint curve of her eye brows and along her chin. "She's already beautiful."

She nods sleepily, agreeing.

"When she's old enough... I'm gonna make her a repelling charm... Disguise it in a necklace."

"She's gonna have to grow up some time." And she can't believe she's saying it, because their daughter is all of twenty-three minutes old. But Dean's jumping into protective-dad mode so quickly, it's the only thing she _can _say. "You've got years yet, Dean."

He nods and she sees his eyes are wet again.

"What are you thinking?" she wonders, too tired to think maybe she shouldn't ask, because it'll either be a sarcastic remark or he'll just ignore it, becoming the stoic demon hunter who doesn't really _feel _anything.

Instead, he sighs. "Just glad I'm here..." He nods slightly, turns away from Madeline to look at her. "Glad I got to experience all this."

"You're gonna experience a lot more," she assures, smiling lightly. "I've put up with you nine years; I think I can handle another twenty or so. Whenever you get your cocky self killed for good." It's not filled with pain, but their usual jibes at each other. He'll never give up hunting and she'll never ask him to. Because it's where he belongs and if twenty years is all they have, she'll cherish every second.

He snorts. "Only twenty? Sweetheart, even if I die, I'm gonna haunt your pretty little ass."

She chuckles, shaking her head at him. But she's glad; because that's just the way she wants it.


End file.
